A Sort of Homecoming
by Winam
Summary: A little vignette that takes place after Jane returns to Rochester.


A Sort of Homecoming

By Winam

The sun shone bright today, and though only spring, its rays were as warm as a midsummer's day. We had come out to walk after breakfast – Jane leading me into the environs of Ferndean, taking care to describe all that she saw so I could visualise the scenes that I passed through. Then she found this peaceful spot by the river bank, a place for us to repose while she sketched, and I indulged in her presence.

How wonderful it was to be out-of-doors, to feel the sun on my skin after months inside my cold, dim cave, to listen to the rushing water instead of the ominous ticking of the clock, to breathe in the scent of the meadow instead of the stale parlour air! And how wonderful it was to be free of tormenting thoughts, of haunting dreams, to be in the company of the most precious being on earth!

It had been but five days since Jane returned – two days since we were married – but during that time I had been transformed from a useless wreck of a man – a man ready to spurn his life – to a man full of hope for a long and glorious future. And it was all due to this wondrous woman who sat by my side.

I heard the scratch of charcoal against paper above the gurgling river; heard it pause now and again as she observed the subject she was drawing. What _was_ she drawing?

"A swallow," she replied with amusement, "Standing by the riverbank. It is steadily pecking away, trying to catch its dinner."

In lively detail, she described how the little bird jumped from the fallen log to the grass and back again in pursuit of its meal.

I grinned. "Are you sure it is not a firebird? With grey feathers and red under its wings?"

"I am positive!" she laughed, "It is a swallow – a dark blue fellow, with a white chest and a copper chin."

"Ah," I sighed, "I rather hoped that it was a firebird, like the one that resided at Thornfield."

"And to be sure, a figment of your imagination, since it was so elusive that neither Adèle nor I have ever seen it!"

"Oh, it was – _she _was – indeed real, whatever you may think. I saw her everyday – sometimes in the gardens, sometimes at my window, sometimes even inside the house."

I remembered Jane in those early days, a little shy, a little hesitant in my presence, but full of unexpected compassion, humour and spark that brightened even my darkest days. Little did I realise that her tiny sparks would grow to become my sun, my whole source of light and life.

"I was always happy to see my little bird." I mused, "She was my best companion, you see. I spent many a fascinating hour in her presence, grew to love her – but one day she flew away and did not come back."

I recalled the horrific morning when I found her gone – recalled the shock, the disbelief, and the frenzy that followed.

"I looked for her everywhere, and when I could not find her, I thought that she was dead. So I clung to my dreams."

Torturing dreams of Jane in her prim, grey dress, with the heartfelt smile I loved; under the chestnut-tree, declaring her love for me passionately, wildly; but most agonisingly, pure in her white nightgown, her long hair unbound – stroking my face, kissing my lips, whispering my name until I was wild with longing.

"I coveted these dreams, though they tormented me, since I thought that they were all that I had left of her, the only place I could be with her – the only place I wanted to be."

Jane put down her sketchbook and took up my hand.

"You were not the only one who dreamed." she murmured forlornly. "I dreamed of you wandering the deserts, the plains, the oceans, lost and alone. I thought it was a sign that you had fled England, so each time I awoke I prayed that you were kept safe, that you would somehow find consolation – but it seems that my prayers were of little use."

I gripped her hand, feeling its softness and strength. "No Jane, your prayers were invaluable – I believe they were what kept me alive. After the fire I did not know why I was spared, but now I know precisely why."

Then lifting her hand to my lips, I gently said, "It was so my little bird could return home."

To my joy, she entwined her arms around my neck, kissing my scarred forehead. "And she did return, Edward, she did."

"For which I am eternally grateful." I replied, moved by the strength of her conviction. "So…"

Swift as the wind, I pulled her down so that we lay side by side. "Let us celebrate this homecoming, this marriage."

And we celebrated in style – with a kiss – well, several lingering kisses.

When we at last rose to return home, I heard Jane say, "I wonder what happened to that swallow. I think we might have frightened it away."

I smiled. "If I know swallows then I can vouch for its return. They never forget where their true home is."

"No," she replied softly, "No, they never forget."

**

We spent the after-supper hours in the same way we had since my return, in the parlour with Edward in his armchair and I perched on his knee.

I gazed at my beloved, feeling the glow of happiness that came from being with him. How could I ever have contemplated entering into a marriage devoid of love? How could I ever have considered choosing a righteous but bleak path over one that was full of warmth and love?

Snuggling closer to Edward, I stroked his wavy hair, dark and luxurious to the touch. My caresses invoked a sweet sigh of enjoyment from him.

"I can easily get used to this." he mused, "Don't you dare stop, I beg you!"

I indulged him, and we spent a few more minutes in this quiet way. He looked so happy now, his face unlined, his expression one of contentment – so changed from the grim desperation I saw on my return to him.

It was plain that he had had a much worse time of it than I. Graced as I was with good health, useful employment, and dear family and friends, he had all the while been tormented by all manner of physical and mental suffering. Even now, I could not look at the scar on his face, the lost eye, the maimed hand, without thinking of the months of pain and despair he must have endured – and endured alone.

Yet despite his suffering he showed no bitterness towards me. On the contrary, on my reappearance he had wept for joy and clutched me lovingly to his breast. Though I had abandoned him to a life of despair he had not shunned me but implored me to stay – to marry him.

Overcome with love for my dear Edward, I leaned down and kissed him hard. He eagerly returned my kiss, laughing heartily.

"Jane, you feisty thing! Where on earth did that come from?"

I rested my brow against his so that he could see me.

"I was thinking that perhaps it was wrong of me to leave you. If I had stayed then you would not have suffered so. Or at least we would have borne it together."

He raised his hand to my cheek, caressed it with such tenderness that it pierced my heart.

"You are not to blame for any of this, Jane. I have thought about this hard and I only have myself to blame for this torment – for concealing Bertha from you, for playing hurtful games, for attempting to marry you under false pretences. I did great damage and would have done more had you stayed… No Jane, I was an impudent dog – you were right to leave me."

"But it is not right for you to suffer like this!"

"Oh, I can bear my infirmities very well now that you are with me. I only…"

He exhaled slowly.

"What is it?"

"I only wish that I can see you clearly, Jane, not just a dim outline in my vision. I want to see your face, your smile again. I miss it so."

He stared intently at me, as if willing his sight to return. But I was determined not to let him sink into melancholy. I leaned forward, kissing his lost eye soundly – a gesture that brought a hint of smile to his lips.

"Well, you still have your other senses. There is nothing amiss with your hearing, that is certain, and your voice certainly has not diminished."

"No, my hearing seems more acute now, and my voice in good condition since I hardly talked to anyone in months. But none of it compensates for my lack of sight."

"There are other ways to communicate, you know. Did you not say that we were so inextricably linked that we could communicate across space and time?"

He pulled away from me and sighed.

"There might be some truth in that, for how could I explain hearing your voice the night I pleaded for you? But no, in all probability it was only my madness speaking, for I was in such frenzy that night."

Edward started sightlessly into the distance, his painful expression betraying the torment of that night.

"You were quite sane, my love." I said gently, "For if you were mad, then so was I."

I told him how that very evening I had sat beside a beck, considering a life in a distant land, when I heard his call.

"You cried with such anguish that it tore me apart. I cried out to you in reply – but received no further answer. I could not bear to stay away after that. I had to find you out."

"And you did find me out!"

He drew me tightly to him, pressing his cheek against my breast.

"Oh Jane." he whispered, "Thank you for answering my call – thank you for coming back to me."

And in response, I kissed him tenderly, a kiss to thank him for his welcome – for his faithfulness – for his precious love.

"And I am glad to be back – back to my true home."


End file.
